On Life
by fnl
Summary: Hyde reflects on some aspects of his life. JH fluff.


I don't own a thing.

So this is pretty much just a completely pointless one shot I came up with last night. I've always wanted to do one of those stories with a completely non-sexual JH before bed, because God knows I've mooched off of other's stories long enough. And I wanted to try something different. It's kind of corny, and extremely fluffy, but I like it. Plus, this Aerosmith song is so freaking good it's not funny. If you want to look it up on on YouTube, it's called "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing". You may want to listen to it while you read it. Just so you, you know, get the fully fluffy effect.

Also, I'm not entirely sure when this is set. After BIOH, for sure, I'm thinking shortly after I Can't Quit You Babe.

Review, please :)

* * *

_Lying close to you  
Feeling your heart beating  
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming  
Wondering if it's me you're seeing  
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together  
And I just wanna stay with you  
In this moment forever, forever and ever_

**On Charity**

He had never been one for charity. Whether it was something being given to him, or something he was willingly giving to someone else, Steven Hyde hated charity. Charity was something people should have to learn to live without. It was nothing but a way to make rich people feel as if they're doing something good for the world, to ease their conscience, and make the rest of their screwed up life seem a little less screwed up. When people got charity, they saw no reason to work for themselves, and when people gave to charity, or did charitable things, they really only made themselves feel better while screwing over the rest of the world.

It was really nothing more than an act promoted by the government to make the country look better. And once people realised this, they also realised that they could apply the same tactic to their less than mediocre lives and improve their status standing in the eyes of their peers, the concept exploded. Yes, charity was nothing more than something designed to screw the world over. If people could just learn to live by themselves, unreliant on anyone else, life would certainly be easier. Hyde was sick of stepping over hobos, homeless because they didn't want to work.

Charity between friends, though, that was different. That wasn't charity. And charity between him and his girlfriend was something else entirely.

Which may explain why one Jackie Burkhart was currently sleeping on a cot that wasn't really his, in a home that technically didn't belong to him, and he wasn't at all protesting something that he had spent many sleepless nights thinking about.

**On Warmth**

He had never really been one to project any sort of feelings. In fact, most people called him callous. Harsh was another commonly used adjective, but in his experience, the favourite was cold. Steven Hyde was a cold man. He was a cold man who had no feelings except for anger; who cared for no one except maybe his friends in Forman's basement. He had been compared to The Grinch a few times, an accusation that only seemed to increase as the Christmas season grew closer. As the weather grew colder, so did the intensity of the insistence that his shoes were too tight, and his heart was three sizes too small. The Grinch, they reasoned, lived up on a mountain in the winter. He was cold, too.

Which is why many people may've been surprised to learn that Steven Hyde was perfectly content being warm. Enveloped in a comforting warmth that he had only felt a few times in his life, he wrapped his arms tighter around his sleeping girlfriend, settled just a little bit closer to her, and lied there enjoying the absolute content that only seemed to confront him once a blue moon. Because, unlike the rumours stated, he was entirely comfortable being warm and happy.

Well, less pissed off, anyways.

**On Strawberries**

He had once heard Forman mention that Donna had a thing for strawberries. Supposedly, she had strawberry lip gloss, and lotion, used strawberry shampoo, and a few other things he had completely drowned out. Forman had said he liked it. Found the scent 'intoxicating' or some stupid thing like that, and Hyde rolled his eyes just thinking about it. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of what it would be like to be with the redhead with a strawberry fetish, it was that Forman acted like a girl. Well, that and Jackie hated strawberries.

Inhaling deeply as if to remind himself of this fact, his face relaxed buried in Jackie's nearly scentless shampoo. She'd once said something about shampoo perfumes mingling with real perfume and making a horrible mess of people's noses, but he figured she just liked the simple smell her shampoo offered. It smelled clean and soft, and here, in his dark room, warm and content, it smelled like home.

Perfume, he figured, was simply something used by girls to fog the male mind. Combine that with hair, boobs, and bathing suits, and you had a recipe for disaster. Women used what they had to get what they didn't, and if it took strawberry scented shampoo (or lack, thereof) to get it, well, integrity be damned.

He didn't like strawberries, anyways. Not really.

**On Late Night TV**

Even though he'd never admit it to anyone, his favourite way to spend a Saturday night was watching TV until all the good shows were long over and he was too tired to keep his eyes open. And if Jackie happened to come along just as Saturday Night Live was coming on and settle onto the couch pressed up against his side, well, he wasn't going to complain. There was something so calming; so completely comforting about watching TV together. By the end of the evening, she was usually sleeping, her head against his shoulder, or on his lap or something, curled up under a blanket that he'd never admit he'd gotten for her when she'd asked him. And his hands _weren't_ stroking her hair; they just needed some way to stretch in order to avoid hand cramps.

And really, it wasn't a big deal if he didn't fully wake her up and helped her down the step into his room. He was just being considerate and looking out for her safety. So what if he put her in his bed while he puttered around his room doing last minute things? It wasn't as if he _tucked her in_ or anything. She pretty much curled the blanket he draped over her around herself, anyways.

He'd never admit it to anyone else, and hardly even himself, but sometimes, in these rare moments of absolute contentment, when he was lying next to her, watching her sleep, he felt so much for the girl that it scared him.

**On Cots**

For a while, he really hated the makeshift bed he slept on. Even now, he'd wake up in the morning with a sore back or some other ache that came from the lack of a good, sturdy mattress, but, here, in the dark, pressed up against Jackie, he was thankful for the small bed. Without it, she might roll away from him. But here, in his small, cramped quarters, she had to sleep close to him. Pressed right up against him, to be exact. And that … that was okay. He could handle holding onto her, sleeping next to her, and hell even putting up with the corny ass things she came up with sometimes.

Some things were just worth it.

**On Dreams**

Dreams had always bothered him. Hyde liked to have complete control of everything that went on in his life, and dreams didn't allow for him to have that. If he fell asleep one night, and woke up the next morning with a house, kids, and wife weighing heavily on his mind, he couldn't stop it from happening again. Hell, he couldn't stop it from happening in the first place. And that scared him. Because, in dreams, you felt real fear; and you felt real happiness. He didn't want to feel happy with a family of his own because he knew that if he did, the next time Jackie was pressuring him to do something he was sure he didn't want to, there would be that tiny part of him that wanted to agree her.

And she was damn persuasive; he needed all the resolve he could get.

It wasn't even that he didn't want to be happy like that. He did – just not right now. He wanted to enjoy the rest of his teens, and a few years from his twenties before he had to worry about things like kids, but Jackie wanted more than he was willing to give.

Right now, anyway.

**On Sleep**

He loved sleep. Hell, if he had the chance, he'd probably spend his life doing it. The only thing that Hyde loved more than sleep was sex, and maybe eating. Sleep provided an escape from his usually dramatic life, or more simply, an excellent way to pass the time. He'd heard people say that he looked calm when he was sleeping, some even ventured to say that he looked content. He didn't know how so many people had seen him sleeping before, and to be truthful, he didn't want to know.

Jackie was probably selling admission tickets to see the angry rebel peaceful.

Stupid moneymaking wench.

**On Jackie**

Girls, he figured, always had at least one ulterior motive. And that was to screw with the male mind. Whether it was done through perfume, crying, sultry looks, or skimpy bathing suits, their main motive (whether they admitted it or not) was to play with the minds of men. And play they did, with a hell of a lot of enthusiasm for the job.

So, it made sense that Jackie, this preppy, disco-loving girl would've wormed her way into his heart … and his bed. Normally, he'd have no protests if a girl wanted to be in his bed, but he and Jackie weren't doing anything. He wondered if her 'being in his bed' even counted as her _being in his bed._ But it didn't matter, because she was here, in his bed, and he wasn't even feeling her up. To be fair, she was asleep, but he wasn't even feeling her up when she was awake, and he had some problems with that. He was now content to just lie there with her, when before, a casual (or completely blatant) touch wouldn't have been enough to satisfy him.

Damn manipulative women.

But it was all right. Because he was onto her. And now, no matter what she tried, he could counteract, because he had women figured out.

Yeah, right.

**On Life**

As the clock flipped another minute over, Hyde felt his eyes begin to grow droopier than they already were, and slowly, they fell into a closed position. With a slight amount of renewed energy, he tightened his grip on his girlfriend's sleeping form, pulling her closer to him. Clearing her hair away, he pressed a sleepy kiss to the corner of her jaw, whispered a quiet, "Goodnight, muffin," closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


End file.
